


If I Risk It All

by Anonymous



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2016-12-03
Packaged: 2018-09-06 06:14:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8737921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Newt Scamander initiates the most cliched seduction attempt ever known to man. Naturally, it works. Graves/Newt.





	

Percival Graves has been sitting in his office for ten minutes entertaining a guest. A master of interrogation, he prides himself on being able to take people apart in that same amount of time. 

For Newt Scamander, Graves has had him figured out in three minutes flat, and that's without casting spells or asking a single question.

The flustered redhead sits on a chair in front of his desk, sneaking peeks at the door, anticipating Auror Goldstein's arrival. He had ended up knocking at the wrong office, he claimed, but Graves wanted to meet his purported savior himself. The man who trembled before him, easily distracted by the slightest sign of movement whether by a flick of the wrist or a rustling sheet of paper, apparently was the very same one who saved his life.

So he thanked the man briskly and shook his hand. Scamander mumbled a "You're welcome," and then after accepting his offer to wait for Goldstein in his office instead, planted himself on that chair and rendered himself quiet ever since.

Graves has been sneaking glances at Scamander. He has noticed that the magizoologist is thinly-built for someone in his profession, that he always holds himself tightly with his shoulders hunched, ready to spring into action at any moment. Scamander's eyes are green when they are visible, mostly obscured by tousled hair, which does little to hide the sharp cheekbones and only further highlights his light, distinctive lips. Graves suspects that Scamander does most of the hair-tousling himself.

He is also highly certain that this strangely endearing man is attracted to him.

Graves is well-trained in recognizing patterns. And after spending three minutes with Scamander, he has noticed plenty. All happen to involve him, amusingly enough. Like when Graves adjusts his tie, Scamander swallows. When Graves licks the tip of his quill to scribble a new sentence on parchment, the other man bows his head, a very evident blush staining his cheeks. When he reorganizes the contents of his desk, Scamander's gaze is drawn to his hands and he bites his lip.

Graves tries not to smile.

He gets up, amused at his own nerve, and makes a very sensual show of removing his jacket, slowly sliding it off his shoulders as Scamander simply goggles at him. Graves gazes into the green of his wide eyes and frees himself from one arm of his jacket, then the other. He begins to fold up his sleeves, and Scamander looks determinedly at the coat instead.

"It's quite warm in here, isn't it? Why don't you take off your coat?"

"No thank you," he stammers out. Panic is evident on his face, as if Graves had just asked him to strip completely.

He sits down, arching his back very deliberately before pressing it against the chair. 

"Mr. Scamander," he says in the smoothest tone he can manage. Scamander continues doing his best impression of someone hit with _Petrificus totalus_. "Could you do me a favor and get me a copy of _Contemptible Cuses_ from the shelf? It should be on the second row, down the middle."

He scrambles off the chair and heads for the bookshelf. Unbeknownst to him, Graves stands up and quickly follows.

Scamander only takes a moment to locate the book, reaching up to tug the volume free. But Graves is behind him in a flash, curling his hand around the outstretched wrist. He hears Scamander's gasp, the man swiveling around to find Graves pressing him against the shelf, one hand pinned above his head.

If not for his posture, Scamander would be the same height as him. But as such, he is trying to shrink himself as much as possible, peering up at Graves with a guarded expression. The reports were right: that he is like a trapped animal who will only fight back if you threaten her cubs. 

Graves takes another step forward, and ignores the small noise that Scamander makes when he presses against the other man. The fabric of their clothes rubs together, his silk trousers against rough wool. His chest is covering Scamander's own, an erratic heartbeat rebounding back to him.

"On second thought," he murmurs into Scamander's ear. "I should've gotten it myself."

"I-I was closer to the bookshelf, so it made sense for me to do it for you." Scamander has a spectacular way of completely missing the point and yet seeming more captivating that way. Graves can only marvel at the sheer authenticity of his naivety. But he is not completely innocent, and the beginnings of an erection pressing against his trousers are proof of that.

"Indeed," he says. Red hair tickles at his jaw. Scamander is gazing at his mouth as if in a trance, so Graves gently grabs his chin and tilts it, bringing him back to the matter at hand. 

His eyes are very green indeed, and much brighter when they are still. Graves' lips deliberately graze his cheek as he whispers into his ear. "I have a meeting to attend, but you're welcome to stay in this office any time. The spell to unlock my door is _Sepulcrum_."

He releases the man and walks out without another word. He doesn't even turn back to regard Scamander with one final glance. But he knows he's still sporting that shellshocked expression, and will probably slide down to the floor, mortified by the events that just transpired. Perhaps bury his head in his hands in frustration, entire body warm and thrumming with desire.

Graves is hard now, too; he's just much better at hiding it.

\--

"Well."

He thought he had read Newt Scamander like a book. Apparently, he had thought wrong.

For one of the few times in his life, Graves is left speechless by the sight before him. A flushing, mostly naked redhead has been deposited on his desk, wrapped tantalizingly in a dark fabric that leaves his freckled shoulders bare, and strategically exposes much of his chest and stomach. It does little to cover anything past his thighs, folded neatly under him. He's holding the cloth in place with one hand, and deliberately doing a very bad job of it.

The first words to tumble out of his lips are "I am so sorry about this," and that's how Graves knows that this Newt Scamander is not an illusion.

Even so, a distant thought reminds him that even If this were some sort of trap, then he is very willing to surrender his auror badge right then and there. Throw it at Madame Piquery, even, as long as it means having this.

"That's my coat," he says, gobsmacked.

"Tina's idea," Scamander explains, with an apologetic smile. "I can wash it for you afterward--" He is still trying to wrap his head around the fact that Newt Scamander is in his office, nearly naked, splayed out on his desk and is currently offering to do his laundry.

He runs a hand through his hair in frustration.

"I like you," Scamander says, realizing his blunder and restarting the conversation. "You must know that by now."

Newt Scamander saved his life. So why does it feel like he's going to be the death of him someday?

The redhead chews at his lip and averts his gaze, his expression turned pleading. "Please say something?"

"Hold on." Scamander blinks while he tries to gather his bearings. He pauses, sighing. "I'm trying to decide where exactly I'm going to fuck you." Scamander exhales sharply, fist twisting the cloth in his grip and accidentally exposing himself further. Graves closes the distance between them and brushes a thumb across Scamander's parted lips.

"Ah, now I know." 

He bends down to kiss the younger man. Scamander opens his mouth obediently, and Graves plunders it with his tongue. When Graves presses his hands against Scamander's legs, the magizoologist spreads them and pushes himself into a kneel, putting them at even height. It seems everything Scamander does is done for someone else's consideration.

While kissing him, Graves first unzips, then wrestles the coat from his grip and flings it away. With his hands free, Scamander settles them on his shoulders while Graves shamelessly fondles the other male's ass.

Graves yanks Scamander upward, causing him to let out an undignified yelp. Despite the firmness of his skin and ripples of muscle on his chest, he's light. Graves has no problem carrying him across the room to pin him against the bookshelf.

Scamander's gaze slides out of focus a few times before settling on him. He's panting, freckles underlined by a deepening blush. Upon flashing him a modest smile, he tightens his long legs around Graves' torso. Graves wonders what he has done to deserve so much good fortune: another chance at life and an extra prize deposited into his lap for good measure.

He adjusts his grip so he can prepare Scamander properly. But to his surprise, his fingers penetrate easily and come back moist. He gives the man a questioning look, which prompts him to laugh nervously.

"Tina's idea as well?"

"God, no," he says with a shake of his head. "But I knew I was going to have a bit of a wait, so--"

The rest of the answer is left unsaid. Scamander pulls him close, resting his chin on Graves' shoulder as arms link around his neck. It's time, so Graves presses his cock into Scamander's already slick entrance. The latter tightens his hold and lets out a strangled moan as the head first breeches him.

"Mr. Graves--" Scamander's voices come out more slurred than usual, but as much as he'd love to chat, the tight fit of Scamander's ass around his length cannot be ignored. He grunts and thrusts all the way in, then doubles back so he can muster a rhythm. Scamander remains clinging to his neck, making muffled noises against his collarbone.

After a while he hikes Scamander higher up against the shelf. Scamander throws his head back, exposing a long column of his throat. Even his neck has an array of scars. How many beasts would he say marked him, and how many of them may have actually been men?

"You've done far too much for me," Graves admits, and they both shudder as he buries himself to the hilt once more. Scamander looks at him, beaming.

"If it's alright with you, Mr. Graves, I'd like to do more." And because of that he has to stop for a bit, bracing his hands against the shelf while Scamander holds onto him, crumpling the back of his vest with trembling fists.

With Scamander pinned in place, his grip tightens around Scamander's ass and his thrusts grow more forceful, as do the younger male's groans of pleasure. At some point Scamander reaches for his own member and fondles himself, a blissful smile on his face, not caring about the friction-induced marks that will add to the ones on his back.

Graves ejaculates inside, letting out the most guttural noise as he deposits spurts of come into him. Scamander follows soon after, mostly making a mess on his own inner thighs. Some of it gets on the carpet. _Charms for the Charmless_ teeters off the shelf and falls to the floor. A lot of books have jaunted closer to the edge from Graves' enthusiasm, ready to follow suit.

"Can you stand?" 

"Yes," Scamander replies meekly. "Though it will take considerable effort." He's blinking furiously, trying to return to normal function. Normal for him, anyhow. 

He slowly lets him down, and Scamander belatedly realizes his complete nakedness in contrast to Graves' rumpled attire. He crosses his arms, immediately having transformed back into his shy, unassuming demeanor. Graves can't help himself, needing to possess Scamander's swollen lips one more time. So he does.

At least there was less collateral damage than he'd expected. Of course, the rug will stain. The books' lifespans' have shortened considerably. The shelf is still creaking even after they've stopped. He will need another coat.

But despite everything Graves feels entirely new.


End file.
